


Teratophilia

by WebbedUpKatanas



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 17:18:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1991226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WebbedUpKatanas/pseuds/WebbedUpKatanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter takes a quiet moment to appreciate Wade's scars</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teratophilia

It says a lot about his life these days that Wade dancing into his room wearing only a slinky red dress barely fazes him.

Wade twirls in the middle of the room, his skirts fanning out around him and comes to a halt with his hip cocked right in front of where Peter is sitting on the corner of his bed reading.

“Hey Wade, give me a minute, I just want to finish this chapter…” in the next second the book has been torn from his grasp and flung into the far corner.

“Wade! What the hell?!” he wails, though he can’t say he’s all that surprised.

Wade narrows his eyes at him. “How can you concentrate on reading when I’m wearing this?” he gestures to his body, inviting Peter to look his fill. “Besides I thought you wanted to…”

Peter takes advantage of Wade’s uncertainty, to hop off the bed and kiss him. He isn’t surprised Wade is nervous, not when mere two hours ago he’d agreed to let Peter explore his skin. Up until now they’ve only fucked hard and fast, barely removing their clothes let alone taking time to admire each other’s bodies.

“You better do it now kid, while I’m still feeling pretty,” Wade says gruffly.

He looks pretty too.

Well maybe pretty’s not the right word.

He looks… alluring, although he’s not sure Wade would believe him if he told him. He takes in the sight of lace just barely brushing Wade’s upper thighs, skims his eyes down his bare muscular legs covered in scars and scabs.

His throat goes dry just looking at him.

“So…” there’s an edge of challenge in Wade’s voice even as he flexes the muscles Peter is fixating on to tease him. “You gonna do something? Or were you trying to make sure I never get hard again with all that creepy staring?”

There’s a hint of guilt that accompanies his movement when Peter stalks forward and pushes Wade back onto the bed. The way he’s schooled his features into a blank mask isn’t exactly encouraging, especially given Wade’s normal reaction to knowing he’s about to get some.

He kisses him first, his hands skimming up over the skin of his arms gently. He knows he could be ten times rougher and Wade would still be stuck to him like cling-wrap, but he keeps the kiss gentle but insistent.

Today his scars look red and sore, though Wade says they always hurt the same no matter what they look like (his actual words were “It don’t matter if they draw me like an exhibit at a wax museum during a heat wave or like I’m made of reconstituted taco meat, it all feels the same to me.” So that had been a fun conversation to say the least).

Peter shakes his head at the memory and slides the skirt of the dress up slowly. The hemline is pushed up over his hips, until it rests just above his navel revealing black silky panties that are already tented by his half-hard cock.

“Yeah, I can tell you’re really turned off,” he laughs, giving him a quick rub through the silk until the tip peeks out from the hem. By the time he yanks them down Wade is almost fully hard, his cock jutting out proudly, alleviating some of the guilt Peter feels at the knowledge that Wade is still enjoying this despite his nerves.

“Shut up and just do it if you’re gonna do it,” Wade grumbles, grabbing the dress and pulling it up and off over his head.

So Peter does, leaning forward to survey the jagged red lines that decorate Wade’s body.

He touches each one individually, gently as first, just running the tips of his fingers over them while Wade breathes heavily through his nose. Peter traces the neat line of one down from Wade’s navel, following a network of raised and reddened flesh that blossoms all the way down his stomach to curl around his hip bone.

The pressure of his fingers increases as he skims lower to run them across the flat of his pelvis. He pauses thoughtfully and tries scratching one section of scar-tissue lightly, just the slightest scrape of nails over the skin. Wade makes a guttural sound low in his throat, and his hips lift of their own accord as if to remind Peter that he’s rock hard and waiting impatiently to be touched.

He ghosts his fingers along the length of it just inches away from touching him before he smirks and moves on to his other hip.

Wade begins babbling, talking about nothing while he tries to keep himself still on the bed. Peter’s not completely sure if he’s trying to keep himself from bucking up into the touch or from throwing him off and running away, but he appreciates the effort. The movement of his chest with his ragged breathing is already enough to be distracting.

It should feel strange to run the flat of his palm across the bumps and divots of Wade’s flesh, but all Peter feels is wonder that Wade is silently letting him have this, an exploration of the very thing he despises. Peter knows that Wade fully expects him to hate it too; to run or flinch or sneer at him in disgust, and yet here he is, letting Peter run his hands across tumours and angry red scars. His chest tightens and heat suffuses him at the thought, pooling low in his belly.

A hand finally reaches out to grasp Wade’s erection, standing proudly to attention despite how uncomfortable he seems to be. There are scars here too, ones that Peter can’t help but stare at in fascination. Wade is long and thick, and every inch is decorated in the patches of red Peter has learned to love. It certainly helps that the texture feels amazing when Wade is fucking him, but at this point it’s less about the feel and more about how Wade looks, covered in red just as much out of his costume as he is in it. Where Wade sees disgusting carved up flesh Peter sees lines to guide his fingers, bumps to remind him to take his time, and skin that he can’t get enough of tasting and feeling.

He finishes tracing a particularly vivid streak of red that curls up onto the head of his cock and Wade’s nervous babble screeches to a halt, only to become an agonized groan.

“Okay, that’s it. The Harlequin Romance novel portion of this evening needs to be over five minutes ago,” Wade growls. “I was thinking a little more along the lines of the instant classic film ‘The Throbbit.’”

Peter smiles and leans forward to continue his experiment in tracing, this time with his tongue.

“Oh, so you’ve seen it,” Wade gasps happily.

“Mhmm.” He licks all the way down to his balls and back up again in long, slow strokes. By the time he finally swallows him down Wade is having trouble remembering his own name let alone the names of uncomfortable hobbit themed pornos.

If the scars felt good under his fingers that’s nothing compared to how the texture of them against Peter’s wet lips as he bobs his head between Wade’s legs. He goes quickly, taking him in as deep as he can before pulling back each time until the merc’s toes curl under the attack. The sounds Wade is making are beyond satisfying, making Peter’s own cock feel hot and heavy against the restrictive fabric of his briefs.

He half-heartedly rubs his palm over his own erection a few times before returning both hands to brush up and down the skin of Wade’s thighs in long strokes. And now Wade doesn’t seem nervous at all, if the way he’s thrusting shallowly up into Peter’s mouth is anything to go by.

He’s still tracing the intricate patterns with his tongue when Wade comes in his mouth with a choked off sob, clenching fistfuls of Peter’s hair in his shaking hands. Swallowing on reflex Peter takes his time pulling off, letting his lips slide languidly up across the uneven length in his mouth and looking up to lock eyes with one very dazed Wade Wilson. Wade blinks and looks away, so Peter closes his own eyes to better savour the feeling of the rough pattern of Wade’s scars and tumours against his sensitive lips.

When he finally reaches the head of his cock Wade’s hands are almost unbearably tight in his hair. The man lets out a long drawn out groan as he laps at the head a few more times for good measure before pulling all the way off.

He climbs back up Wade’s body to be tugged forward into a mindless kiss, and for the next few minutes Peter sets about trying to making Wade forget he’s ever had scars at all.


End file.
